


Worth It

by mukur0



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Cockwarming, FTM, M/M, Trans Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 08:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19389988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mukur0/pseuds/mukur0
Summary: It takes a lot of work to keep Sam Winchester both safe and blissfully ignorant of the thousands of supernatural, demonic, and angelic beings that have come after him since 2005. And Sam, resident successful lawyer, knows the best ways to help his beau unwind after a long day doing what he thinks is running a bakery.





	Worth It

**Author's Note:**

> For Gabriel Bingo, squares lawyer!sam/baker!gabe and guardian angel & Sam Winchester Bingo, square cockwarming.

Whoever said lies didn’t make a good relationship needed a reality check. At five years and counting, Gabriel was pretty damn sure he and Sam Winchester were going steadier than Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson. 

It helped that he knew all the secrets already. When Sam said his dad was a bounty hunter, Gabe nodded and soothed him through heavily censored versions of bad memories, knowing every little story and perfectly content to be told them. On the other hand when Gabriel explained how he’d come into enough money to start a business, well, Sam had no idea how much bullshit he was lapping right up.

But that was Gucci. That was why Sam was alive. 

He had no fucking idea. He didn’t have a clue that Gabriel--who he knew as Luke, for Luki, one of those hundreds of little names humans had for him--had kept Sam’s brother from reaching him on campus the night before that life-changing interview, and he certainly didn’t know that Jessica Moore’s death had been demonically influenced ( _stupid_ , he hadn’t thought to protect her as well as Sam). A hell of a lot of things had come sniffing for Samuel Winchester in the last seven years since the fire, and not a single one of them had slipped past him.

For weeks now, though, the place had reeked of demons. He hadn’t caught sight of a single one, not even scanning the entire goddamn town, but it was itching at the back of his neck and Sam was catching on that something was wrong. 

And for all that Gabriel was the one with the wings here, Sam was a mother fucking angel.

“Come here, Luke,” he murmured, chuckling fondly as his boyfriend sagged into a kitchen chair and melted under his hands. Those big fucking fingers played his shoulders like a fiddle, Sam grinning at the way they made him moan. And wasn’t he a dream, sharp in his tailored suit, looking all lawyerly in a snazzy watch and tie pin and shiny shoes that he sometimes let Gabriel polish. Seemed they’d both gotten home late. “Bad week at the bakery, baby? You need a day off.”

For all the restraint of an archangel, he couldn’t resist tilting his head back and smiling up at his lover. Fuck, but he was worth all of it. “Yeah. Just some issues with the suppliers. It’ll be smooth sailing in a jiffy, darlin’.”

Of course it would, because no goddamned hellspawn was getting close to Sam Winchester.

Those big arms looped around his shoulders as the man himself bent and buried his face in the side of Gabriel’s neck. Now that was coming home. “Let me help you relax,” he whispered with his lips pressed to a jugular that might have jumped under them, to his jaw, to his ear. He had a five o’clock shadow that made Gabriel’s skin join a choir and sing _ Hallelujah._ “I think I know just the thing.” 

“Oh, you do, huh?” He probably did. Gabriel tilted his head, baring his neck better and offering a rumble that sounded as much like a purr as he could manage. Sam’s hair always felt so good in his hands, and it wasn’t any different tonight when he raised one to tug it. At this rate he wasn’t sure whether to fuse with the chair or drag Sam into the bedroom, but either one would be nice.

With a few more rolls of his palms and a final squeeze Sam pulled his hands away, laughing at the loud moan aimed at his back. “Go in the living room and pick out a movie or a book or something. I’m going to get out of this monkey suit.”

Gabriel squinted back at the hallway. Getting out of things was good, less clothes was better. But television? Okay, maybe it was a Netflix and chill kind of thing. He could do that, it was a comfy couch. He was dating a goddamn genius.

By the time that Sam walked back out he was sprawled across all three cushions, stripped down to undershirt and satin boxers and more than ready to greet his lawyer. _His_ lawyer. Sam would smack him and give him a dressing down if he knew Gabriel thought of him so possessively (Sam was his own, of course, belonging to no one but himself), but Sam was Gabriel’s man and there was no convincing him otherwise, especially not with Sam standing there with a shy smile, a t-shirt, and his favourite pair of lace panties.

“Oh, Sam,” he purred, already half to his feet, but a gesture made him still at the edge of the cushion. “You _do_ know how to make me feel better.”

The dimples were pretty, sure, but the real miracle was the way Sam’s eyes glittered behind a real grin and crimpled at the edges. It was how he lifted his shoulders a little bit instead of sinking into the smallest shape he could and ran a hand through his hair, self conscious and edging bit by bit closer to confidence. Without a doubt it was the way he met Gabriel’s admiring stare and smiled even bigger, flattered after all this time. 

And then there was that ass.

Eventually his gaze dragged downwards. He very purposely dragged his tongue over his lips while he took in every line of Sam’s body leaning against the doorframe there, aware of the blush on Sam’s cheeks as he did. That undershirt did wonderful things for him, but not as much as nudity.

“Come here,” he said after a long bout of loaded silence--or tried, because it came out as a croak, and Sam smirked as he made his way over with his hips swishing and bent to steal a kiss. “ _Oh,_ Sam. What’s the point of TV if I get to watch this?”

That laugh was positively wicked, and he wanted to hear it more. “Well, see, I had an idea…” He always had mind-blowing ideas; Gabriel was instantly hard in his boxers. “We’re both pretty tired, so...let’s just...relax.” 

What?

His confusion showed, so Sam laughed again, this time from behind a layer of cotton because he was pulling his undershirt off and crawling onto the couch, tugging at Gabriel’s knee. Oh. Oh! Oh, that was what he meant. Moaning appreciatively, Gabriel pressed a leg to the back of the couch and let the other dangle off the front, baring the bulge in his underwear with a crooked grin and an expectant glimmer. This was a lot of drama for some head, but he’d play Brad Pitt as Lestat if it meant his cock in Sam’s mouth.

That was an impish look if he’d ever seen one, but before he could get worried Sam was pulling his erection out of the slit in his boxers with those ridiculously long fingers and taking him to the hilt, barely adjusting to accommodate him in his throat. He looked so fucking smug when Gabriel gasped, breath punched out of him, tangling his fingers helplessly in Sam’s hair. “Oh, Sam,” he whispered, every word a hard, fast breath, “oh, Sam, oh Sam ohSam ohsam _ohsam--”_

And in one long movement Sam was off of him, watching his eyes water and hands clench, grinning and licking off the spittle at the corner of his mouth. His fingers played with the edges of his thong, inching them down millimetre by millimetre. “Do you want these off or on?” he snickered, stretched long and tall in front of his lover like a buffet he couldn’t quite yet touch. 

Gabriel moaned and bit his lip. “Off,” he hissed with his eyes locked on the curve of Sam’s ass, watching every inch of skin exposed, painfully aware that his cock twitched at the sight of the neatly trimmed hair on Sam’s groin. Heaven had nothing on this beauty.

He very nearly lunged forward, eager to press his tongue to Sam, taste him like candy, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. “Relax a little,” Sam whispered, and he sounded about as breathless as he was, so at least it was a command for the both of them. Gabriel looked up at him in confusion, shivering as Sam turned his back to him and straddled his hips. He was so fucking gorgeous, and he was so wet Gabriel could smell it, ached to bury his face between Sam’s legs and drink him down but settled instead for digging his fingers into the flesh of his ass.

“I’m going to put you in,” Sam finally breathed with a sigh that sounded entirely too calm, “and get comfortable. You get comfy, too. Netflix has that movie you wanted to see.”

Archangels weren’t supposed to take time to process. He stared at the back of Sam’s head, brows furrowed until Sam glanced back over his shoulder. So...they weren’t fucking, then. He wasn’t going to drill Sam into this couch and then take it to the bedroom with at least three stops on the way. Right--Sam was tired. He thought Gabriel was tired, too. He swallowed hard, looked at the inviting folds hovering over his cock, and nodded slowly. 

That actually sounded pretty nice.

Smiling, Sam lined him up (oh, those hands were always so good on him) and slid him home. They both groaned at the tight slide, took a moment to appreciate how wonderful it felt to come together, and sighed happy breaths in sync.

It took a minute of very interesting wiggling to find a good, comfortable position for the rest of the evening. Gabriel sat up at the end of the couch, cradling the hips of the man who sat sideways on his lap, leaning back against the wall. Every tiny shift ran directly to Gabriel’s cock seated firmly in Sam, and by the little exhales he could tell he wasn’t the only one who felt it.

The movie was alright. He missed several seconds whenever Sam bore down around him, showing no outward sign of the way he kept Gabriel hard inside him, and within half an hour he was beginning to wonder if his lawyer was more of a sadist than he’d let on. He nuzzled and kissed at Sam’s bare chest, avoiding the scars underlining it (and didn’t he wish that Sam would let him kiss and lick them, draw him into spasms, make him come over and over with Gabriel’s mouth on those scars, and maybe he wouldn’t look away when he caught them in the mirror anymore), hands gentle around Sam’s hips. Once or twice Sam even bent and gave him a soft kiss, and wow, didn’t that do things between their legs.

He was going to go nuts. This was wonderful, he wanted to do it a million times, but all at once he would implode if he didn’t get to fuck Sam Winchester into the ground. At twenty minutes into the movie it felt like an eternity of torture. At forty minutes…

Well, at forty minutes, he was starting to relax into the couch, happy with the way they wound around each other. Yes, he was hard, and his cock would be perfectly happy if they started doing something a little more exciting, but he could just about fall asleep right there and then. Sam seemed to be of the same mindset, quickly settling into a smooth rhythm of squeezing his legs every ten minutes or so to keep Gabriel erect and otherwise lounging peacefully in his lap. 

The movie was practically watchable, if only he hadn’t missed the first half an hour. Jeff Goldblum made anything worth the time, though, no matter how incomprehensible it was, and by the end of a spine-tinglingly pleasant 120 minutes he’d almost forgotten that he was balls deep in a very wet Winchester. With the soft coo of the television powering down Sam turned to look down at his partner’s face, worrying his bottom lip till it was red and Gabriel was aching to kiss it better.

“Well?” he whispered, and Gabriel’d be damned if it wasn’t the sexiest huskiness he’d ever heard. 

“Well?” Gabriel echoed.

The tiniest shift of Sam’s hips startled a moan out of him, drawing twin smirks between the both of them. “Do you want to...go to sleep like this? I looked up some nice positions. Or do you want to do some cardio before bed?”

He had to be the sexiest thing Gabriel had ever encountered. He felt his cock twitch in interest, watched Sam lick his lips and enjoy it, wanted so badly to slip a hand between those glorious long legs and rub Sam through three orgasms without a single thrust, but they had nothing but time. And the night wasn’t young.

Gingerly he helped Sam twist around and secure his thighs around Gabriel’s hips, both of them gasping, and (pretending to be having far more difficulty than he was) got to his feet and headed for the bedroom. Every step had them murmuring curses, blessings, each other’s name, and Sam’s pulse was going to pound right out of his veins with the way he loved being picked up and tossed around. With a grimace Gabriel managed, without ever having to withdraw, to get them both in bed and maneuver them until they laid with heads on their pillows and one of Sam’s legs was thrown over his hip. 

It was absolutely the last thing that Sam expected, judging by the way he stared and only hesitantly snuggled in close as if to sleep. He expected to be pounded into next week, and it was a fair assessment, because it took everything in a fucking archangel to resist the opportunity. But wasn’t this so fucking good, just knowing he was in Sam, feeling him tight and drenched, wondering how desperately horny Sam was going to be in the morning?

Mostly the last part, obviously, but the first was pretty damn good if he said so himself.

He ran his fingers through Sam’s hair, chuckling away the doubts. “Go to sleep, baby,” he cooed. “Seriously. This is not the last time I plan on doing this.”

If that shiver was any gauge, his lawyer wasn’t going to get to sleep any time soon. “Good night, Luke,” he managed, nose buried in Gabriel’s scalp.

Every second this was getting better. “Good night, baby.” The house was warded to hell and back, tomorrow was Saturday, and secret demon hunting could wait till then. He was going to enjoy every fucking moment Sam spent in this bed. 


End file.
